Pup
by LCFC
Summary: The first Christmas after John's Death, Sam & Dean make a new friend!
1. Chapter 1

It was Christmas Eve and the mall was packed with late night revellers and families doing last minute shopping. There were carols playing through a tinny and crackling PA system and a rather worn out looking Santa Claus was ringing a small bell chanting 'Ho, ho, ho' in a rather hoarse and scratchy voice.

Sam Winchester sat against one of the shop fronts, long legs stretched out in front of him, his eyes fixed on some distant point; this was the first Christmas that they would spend without their father and he was both saddened and unsurprised that it felt no different from any other Christmas at any other time.

Even when dad was alive they hadn't celebrated the festive season. Sam had distant memories of rickety trees in musty hotel rooms and presents, wrapped by Dean, in old newspaper. He couldn't recall the last time he had actually gotten a card or even sent one; Jess had once brought him an embarrassingly large red bear that wore Santa hat and sang Merry Christmas, but apart from that one gesture, he hadn't actually received anything, from Santa or from anyone.

He wondered when Dean would be back. He had gone to the drug store to buy pain killers and needed some strong enough to kill his latest hang over. Sam had been pleasantly surprised when Dean had suggested they stop hunting and have a little Christmas vacation, but he had been less surprised by the fact that Dean's idea of festive cheer was to drink tequila and hit on big breasted women. Sam yawned and rubbed a hand through his hair, god it needed cutting but there was no one to really care what he looked like and he wondered if he would end up like some aged surfer dude with a mullet or a pony tail.

Bored with waiting, he got up from the floor and began to wander, aimlessly, around the mall. He forced a smile as Santa rang his bell in his face, he gave an old woman, collecting for something or other, a dollar and he barely avoided tripping over a gaggle of small children who stood with their noses pressed up against a store window, oohing and ahhing at something that had clearly gotten their attention. Sam pulled himself up to his full height and looked through the, slightly smeary, glass, his own breath caught in his throat when he saw it and he felt his stomach clench with a desperate wanting that he hadn't felt for years.

It was a puppy, a Labrador, small and brown eyed, its ears pricked alertly, its paw lifted in dumb appeal. It sat on its own on the grimy pet store floor, looking lost, alone and in need of a home. Sam figured that it was probably illegal and immoral to have the dog here, in a store in the middle of a crowded mall, but he ignored his inner voices and continued to stare, as entranced as the children, lost for a moment, his pounding and stubborn heart refusing to listen to his more sensible head. Sam paused for a moment, then, mindless of the warning bell which was now screaming in his head, he went into the store.

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When Dean finally got out of the drug store – God how long was that queue, he was tired and his headache was worse. All he really wanted to do was to go back to the motel, have a long shower and fall into bed watching reruns of 'It's a Wonderful Life'. He was barely aware of the decorations or the carols and he had some sympathy for Santa who was now looking as if he wanted to lie down and die. He looked over to the store where he had left Sam and was surprised to see his little brother surrounded by children. It wasn't that Sam didn't like kids, it was just that he very rarely had much to do with them. Dean sighed and hoped Sam had not gotten into some sort of trouble, as much as he was always up for a fight, Dean was just too exhausted to cope with much right now.

He missed his dad, that much was true, and even though he had finally admitted to Sammy how he really felt, it hadn't made him feel that much better. He found it hard to stay focused; found it hard to keep it together. He felt as if he were burdened, not just with the truth of John's death, but the secret he had been told and the weight of responsibility. He found himself looking, for the first time, at the Christmas things surrounding him; the bright colours, the flickering lights, the happy faces. They hadn't done really happy for a long, long time and he could barely remember the last time either of them had cracked more than a false smile or a snarky laugh. He quickened his step, suddenly desperate to get back to Sam.

The children parted like waves on a beach as Dean approached and he watched as they stepped back to give him full access to his brother. Sam was leaning against the store, holding something in his arms. For a moment Dean's heart stopped beating and he panicked, was it some child that had been hurt? Had something happened whilst he had been at the drug store? Then he realised that the something was small and very lively, he also noticed that the something had fur and was wriggling in his brother's arms, pressing a very pink tongue against his brother's neck. "Sammy" it was a harsh, warning tone and Sam looked up, deep red spreading across his cheeks, his eyes virtually hidden by too long hair "Sammy what the fu-heck?"

"Hi Dean" the look on his big brother's face said it all and Sam wondered, not for the first time, what he had been thinking. He snorted a wry laugh, he hadn't actually been thinking at all. He had seen the dog, the dog had seen him and that was it. He held the furry bundle a little closer to his chest and lifted his chin with some defiance "This isn't what you think"

"And what am I thinking Sammy?" Dean's voice held a note of unease and anger "You're the psychic one"

"It was on its own Dean" Sam was burbling and they both knew it "I just couldn't leave it there"

"So you bought it?" Dean shook his head "How?"

"Credit card" Sam had the good grace to lower his head and look ashamed.

For a moment, Dean stared at his brother, but he couldn't, for the life of him, think of anything to say. Sam was bent over the pup, his long hair brushing its face, his big hands cradling it like it was a child. All Dean could see was Sammy, his baby brother, the boy who had always wanted a dog, who had wept when his father had refused him yet another request. Dean saw a boy who had never really had much of a childhood, no real Christmas's, no birthday celebrations, no permanent schooling. God, he loved his dad, but they had been forced to grow up way too fast and now they were both paying the price for his vengeance and his tunnel vision. He saw how pale Sam was, how uncomfortable his hand looked in that cast, he saw his too long hair, the hollow of his cheeks, the shadows under his eyes. He closed his own eyes for a moment "Come on" he hissed "Lets get moving and if that mutt so much as drools in the car – you are licking it clean with your tongue – understand?"

Sam stared at his brother and clutched the dog closer; he had the wildest impulse to shout 'Can I really keep him' at his brother, but resisted that temptation. He knew he was walking on very thin ice here, but he was prepared to walk carefully. He smiled down at his new friend and ran a finger through velvet fur "That's Dean" he whispered "He can be an asshole at times – but at least he's our asshole" and with that he followed his brother out of the mall.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Pup – Chapter 2 

_I don't own Sam or Dean but I do own a dog!!_

The old lady who ran their motel happened to be a sucker for dogs and they got past the first hurdle without so much as a murmur. The pup had been fairly quiet in the car, cradled in Sam's arms and Dean was pleasantly surprised that they had gotten to their hotel room without so much as a bark or a whimper.

He let Sam and the dog settle in whilst he went and had his promised shower. As he stood under the pounding water he wondered what the hell they were going to do with the dog. He knew, in his heart of hearts, that they couldn't keep it, that it would be impossible to keep any sort of pet leading the life they did, but he couldn't bring himself to tell his brother that. Dean sighed, maybe they could take the dog back or maybe the animal shelter would take it in, after all it was cute enough, it'd soon find another home. As he mused he was aware of an unfamiliar sound, something so light and joyful that he thought he might be hearing things. He turned off the shower and opened the bathroom door a little so that he could peer through the gap.

Sam was on the floor with the pup; his head thrown back, his wide mouth open, laughter bubbling out of him. The dog was rolling over and over; pink tongue lolling, paws sliding on the greasy carpet, looking for all the world like it was laughing back at his brother. Dean felt the breath hitch in his throat, he hadn't seen Sammy laugh like that since he'd super glued Dean's hand to a beer bottle during their investigation in Richardson. Sam was laughing so hard he was almost crying, his pale face infused with colour, his chest shaking. Dean felt something move in his chest and he wished, suddenly, that there were some sign of the festive season in their drab room. He had a sudden longing for a tree, some paper chains, maybe even some eggnog. He wanted to hang a stocking over his bedstead and maybe even listen to carols. He wanted to share in the laughter, to enjoy himself. He towelled himself down quickly and got into his clothes, decision made.

"Sam?"

His brother looked up at him, his eyes bright "Yeah Dean"

"You and the pup here be ok if I head out for a bit?" he grinned, "Got some last minute business to attend to"

"Blonde or brunette?" Sam pulled the pup on top of his chest and wrapped his long arms around it as it licked his face gleefully

"Sam – I'm not a total sleaze" Dean forced an affronted look on his face "Look Sam – I'll be back soon ok? Don't let the dog pee in the room and Sam"

"Yeah Dean"

"Don't let it eat any of my M & M's!"

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There were always stores open late on Christmas Eve and Dean soon found everything he wanted and more. The clerk was already in full festive mood and the credit card was accepted without question. Dean stood for a moment, listening to the sound of carols playing through the store's PA system and then carried his purchases back to the Impala. He sat for a moment in the leather seats and looked out of the window into the darkness, remembering his last Christmas with Mom, her excitement at being pregnant again, her joy at spending Christmas with the two men that she loved. That was the last time Dean actually recalled eating a proper Christmas lunch; his dad had always done his best but he was never the same after mom's death.

Dean let himself into the room and found Sam and the pup in much the same position as he had left them. The dog let out a little yelp when it saw Dean and ran at his ankles, nipping and nuzzling "We're gonna have to get a lead for him" Dean huffed, scratching the dog's ears when he thought Sammy wasn't looking "You know that having a dog is expensive – he'll need his shots, a basket, a collar" he tried to look like a stern big brother but he could see by Sammy's wide eyes and love struck expression that his words were having little or no effect. He sighed, watching the dog chew at his boots, it looked as if their little family had just grown bigger.

It took a lot of persuading, but Dean finally reassured Sam that the pup would be all right in his care and that he would make sure that the dog didn't chew anything whilst Sam showered. Finally his brother went to the bathroom and Dean leant back with a sigh of relief, now he could put his plan into action.

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Sam cleaned his teeth and brushed his hair. He felt tired suddenly, but it was a good tired and he yawned, stretching out his arms and flexing his toes. He could hear Dean talking to the pup and he smiled, his brother might try hard to hide his emotions, but he was failing miserably. He knew Dean missed their dad and he knew that they were both still far from alright, but it felt good to laugh and if the dog brought some laughter into their lives, then he was glad he had given into the impulse and brought it.

He walked out of the bathroom and felt his mouth fall open so far he thought it might hit the floor. There was a small, silver tree in the corner of the room, lights hung clumsily and without much flare, twinkling in the semi darkness. Paper chains, handmade very quickly by the look of them, were strung across the walls and there were two long red socks at the end of each bed. Sam looked across at his brother, who was grinning inanely, the pup in his arms.

"See" Dean reached into his bag and pulled out a bright red collar, snapping it round the dogs neck gently, ruffling his ears as he did so "Now he's officially ours – merry Christmas Sammy"

"Dean" he felt his throat close and he moved over to his brother, tentively lifting a hand to touch his shoulder

"Sam" Dean gave him that 'no chick flicks' look, but carried on smiling all the same. He took the dog and thrust him into Sam's arms "He wants a hug" Dean said and the smile on his face spoke volumes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Pup – Chapter 3**

Dean woke with a start, it was bright in the room and he realised it was morning and they had slept the whole night through, something they hadn't done since their father had died. He turned over in bed and gazed, in some amazement, at his still sleeping brother. Sam lay on his back, arms flung above his head; the pup lay on his chest, furry head buried in Sam's neck; both man and dog were snoring softly and Dean couldn't remember when he had actually seen his brother looking so peaceful.

He looked around the room. In the filtering sunlight the trimmings looked cheap and tacky, but at least they were there. Dean grinned, Christmas day and here he was sleeping like a baby. He stared at the bottom of the bed and saw the socks that he had hung there, they looked suspiciously lumpy and Dean Felt his heart beat quicken stupidly, someone had filled the socks – but who? He suddenly felt four years old again, believing in Santa, believing in all the innocent things that four year olds believe in. Dean sat up and swung his legs over the bed, feet pattering as he crept towards the bulging socks

"Santa been?" Sam's voice was soft and amused

"Someone's filled the socks" Dean stated and he heard Sam's snort of laughter "Was it you?"

"No, it was the pup!" Sam was laughing again and Dean relaxed against the bed, enjoying the sound "Aren't you going to look in the socks – see if you've been a good or bad boy this year"

Dean found himself on his hands and knees, pulling small, brightly wrapped parcels from the socks, squeezing them, feeling embarrassed to be so stupidly excited. He was laughing along with Sam and the pup as he began to rip open each parcel, to reveal packets of M & M's, new socks, boxer shorts and copies of his favourite magazines. When the socks were finally empty he turned to his brother, throat thick, determined to avoid a chick flick moment but wanting to say something to thank him "Sam – I didn't get you anything" it sounded pathetic but Sam didn't seem to mind, he just clutched the pup to him and smiled sweetly "It's ok Dean" he said softly "I don't need anything – everything I want is right here, right now"

Dean huffed, feeling his own face grow red. Winchester's didn't do feelings, they didn't do hugging and they very rarely discussed anything that involved intense emotion, but sitting in the dim motel room, surrounded by unwrapped presents and tacky decorations Dean's mind was forming his best Christmas memory in a long time. He tapped his legs and the pup made its unsteady way to him, tongue lolling out, brown eyes wide and eager "This is your doing mutt" Dean whispered "Just keep doing what you're doing and we'll be just fine"

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The diner was almost empty, but it looked festive enough with its bright trimmings and the warm scent of hot chocolate and cinnamon. Dean peered inside, trepidation filling him. Beside him, Sam was clutching the wriggling pup and whispering nonsense into the dog's soft ears. Dean heard snatches of words such as turkey and ham and he shook his head "I doubt if they'll let us take that mutt in here" he hissed "I guess that we're gonna have to settle for pizza – turkey flavour – back at the motel"

"Dean" Sam looked offended "I promised him turkey"

"Sam – you promised me turkey man – we could have left mutt here back at the motel"

"Not an option!" Sam held the pup closer and Dean saw the all too familiar thrust of his chin and that stubborn expression that always made him think of 12 year old Sammy "We'll get served Dean – just wait and see"

The waitresses were two women, an older one and a young girl of about 19, mother and daughter Dean guessed. They looked tired and worn, anxious probably to get home and enjoy what was left of their Christmas. They both looked up as Sam opened the door to the diner, the pup still in his arms "I know I shouldn't ask" he heard his brother's voice, soft and charming "But I was wondering if you would let us eat here – he's pretty well-trained – and the dog isn't bad either" Dean snorted and grinned sheepishly at the older woman. He wasn't hopeful, but he hadn't allowed for the two sets of puppy dog eyes now turned full on at the two women and really, from that moment, they hadn't stood a chance.

Ten minutes later they were holed up in the corner booth, eating large portions of turkey, potatoes and cranberry. The pup had its own bowl and Dean couldn't help but notice that the dog's share was as large and as appetising as theirs was.

The two women made sure that they weren't left hungry, with free slices of pie following up from the turkey and, finally, Dean could eat no more, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his belly. He wished his dad could be here to see this, to share this moment but he realised that if dad had still been alive that there would be no caring sharing moments, no pup, no happy Sam. They would have probably spent Christmas day holed up and looking for the demon and they certainly wouldn't have been allowed to keep the dog. Dean found himself looking at Sam again, wondering at the change in his brother. He looked so happy, colour in his cheeks, well-rested. Who'd have thought that something so small and so needy would have been the answer to all their problems.

It was late when they got back to the motel and, after making sure that the dog did its business, they let themselves back in the room and turned on the TV, ready to watch whatever Christmas special was on this year. Dean felt a sudden stab of envy as the dog settled on his brother's chest, he had seen the reaction of the women in the diner and he was beginning to realise that pup was a fully fledged chick magnet and Dean wouldn't mind exploiting that particular advantage. Sam caught his eye and smiled, patting the bed next to him "Come on Dean" he said "There's room here for three". Dean paused for a moment, how lame would that be, to spend Christmas night snuggled on the bed with his brother and a hairy mutt but then two pairs of puppy dog eyes were turned on him with the same force as those two poor women and he found himself scrambling over to Sam's bed and settled down, his head on the headboard, his hands tangling in pup's warm fur. He felt the comforting warmth of Sam's head on his shoulder and he gave in, having the biggest and most comforting chick flick moment of his life, all other problems and concerns forgotten, just two men and a small dog, a family again.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Pup – Chapter 4 

It was mid January when Dean realised that the bliss he had experienced with his brother and the mutt during their Christmas 'vacation' had now turned to living hell. They were back hunting again and it was clear that hunting and pup did not sit well together.

Sam loved the pup; in fact he was a little obsessed with it. Dean tried to be patient, tried to explain that he couldn't bring the pup on jobs, but Sam was listening, Sam was pushing out his chin, setting his jaw and acting like a chubby twelve year old and Dean was falling swiftly into crabby older brother mode; shouting and snarking at everything Sam or the dog did.

The problem was that pup was just not a hunting dog. Sure he was getting older and Sam had trained him pretty well. He walked to heel without a lead, came at the sound of his name (which was mutt or pup – depending on what sort of mood Dean was in), went out to do any business he had and, unlike a certain Dean Winchester, didn't chase after the lady pups like a dog on heat!

However, despite being a Labrador, pup was just not made for hunting. He had been spoiled, treated like a member of the family, he liked to lay on soft beds, share their food, be cuddled and generally coddled by both Sam and (although he hated to admit it) Dean. Pup had no malice in him and certainly couldn't be trusted to watch their backs against a supernatural foe. Pup was a housedog, a family pet and he wasn't, as much as Dean was loath to admit it, the right sort of pet for them.

It was mid February when Dean decided that the dog would have to go and he began to build up to telling his brother as much. He felt the lower than a snakes hips as he watched Sam talk to the dog, watched him feed the dog; take him for long loving walks. He saw how well his brother looked, took in how Sam now slept without nightmares. He watched as women responded to both boy and dog and he watched as his brother began to make tentative moves towards women again. He knew that he had pup to thank for Sam's happiness and he knew that if he took the dog away that Sam would be devastated; he also knew that if he allowed the dog to come on hunts it was likely to get hurt or, even worse, killed and he couldn't stomach that option much either. He was caught between a rock and a hard place and he didn't know what he was going to do.

It was early March and colder than Dean had ever known it. There was snow on the ground and they were over the Canadian border, searching for a werewolf that a contact had put them on to. The investigation involved long hours of searching and staking out thick, dark forests and Dean thought that he would probably end up with double pneumonia before the month was out. Sam complained constantly of cold, he worried about the dog, worried that the dog would get sick, wouldn't leave it in the Impala, refused to let it stay alone in the motel room. Dean found himself looking at Sam and the dog and hating them both and then he would feel guilty again, it wouldn't take much for him to crack and finally, during an icy, fog filled night, it happened.

Sam was walking the dog; again; and Dean was on his own, squatting down in a thicket, ass and thighs freezing even though his denim jeans and thick plaid shirt. He would kill for a cup of hot coffee and he wished that his brother would just sit still for a moment, realising that they were unlikely to draw out the werewolf if it was so aware of their presence. "For God's sake Sam" he ground out, through gritted teeth "Take the dog to the car and get your ass over here"

"He's cold Dean" Sam's voice was firm "Moving about helps him"

"I'm cold Sam" Dean shifted "We're all cold – but we are never gonna catch that bastard if you don't get over here and keep still"

"Ok, but I'm bringing the dog"

"Sam – that dog is a liability – he's not a hunting dog Sam and he's spoilt – Sam – I didn't want to have to say this – but that dog has got to go"

"You're joking right?" the pup had gotten bigger and heavier, but it didn't stop Sam from sweeping into his long arms and holding hard against his chest "We can't – the dog is family Dean"

"Sam – I should never have let you keep it this long – it isn't practical – we have to get the most run down motel rooms, we have to eat in them most of the time because the diners don't allow dogs and we're failing at the hunt because you care more about the dog than you do about your job"

Sam was silent for a moment and, in the moonlight, Dean saw his face pale, his eyes fill with water "Sammy" Dean began, but it was too late.

Sam was running, running from Dean, the dog clutched in his arms. It would have been funny if it hadn't have been so desperately sad and Dean leapt from his position in the thicket and followed Sam, his breath misty in the cold night air. Despite the weight of the dog, Sam seemed to be quicker than ever and Dean soon lost him. He stood, bent over, panting desperately, his chest aching, his heart pounding. "Shit Dean" he hissed to himself "You certainly know how to win people over"

He was scared now. There was no sign of Sam and he was aware of another presence in the woods, something dark, something evil. He moved slowly, not daring to cry out, not wanting to attract attention to himself or to Sammy. Then he heard it, a terrible howl, a sudden cut off cry and the frantic barking of a dog. It was all happening to fast, much too fast and he flung himself forward, giving voice to his fears "Sammy! Sammy where are you man?"

The barking grew more frantic, then there was a loud scream, a whimper and silence. Dean felt his heart move from his chest to his throat and he quickened his pace, his legs moving so fast he barely noticed how far he was going. Finally he came to a clearing and there, by the bright moonlight, he saw his brother and his heart almost stopped.

Sam lay on the ground, unmoving; there was blood on his face and hands. Nearby lay the creature, still, redness caking its fur. The final body in the clearing was brown and furry and Dean didn't even want to look as he moved closer, his throat closing tightly over the large lump that was forming there. As he approached, he could see that the werewolf was dead; it's throat ripped out in some sort of frenzy. He could also see that the blood on Sammy's face was not his own, but that of the creature. He heard his brother moan slightly and he almost fell to his knees in relief as Sam opened his eyes "Dean?"

"Right here Sammy" Dean touched his brother's hair "Did you get it Sam? What happened?"

"The dog" Sam raised himself up but Dean pushed him gently down again, not wanting him to see. He was sure that pup was dead and he didn't want to face Sammy, not with that knowledge "He protected me Dean.. He went for that bastard with no fear whatsoever" Sam choked a little "Dean..Is he ok?"

"Shit" Dean hissed and he shook his head "Just lie here for a while Sammy – I'm gonna check on him alright?"

His hands were trembling as he moved them over the dog's still warm body. There didn't seem to be any blood, but pup wasn't moving and Dean felt his own tears sting as he tried desperately to find a heartbeat. "Dean?" he heard Sam's voice, tremulous and shaky "Dean is he ok?" For a moment Dean couldn't speak and then he heard something, a tiny whimper and then a feeble bark and he gathered the dog in his arms, laughter catching in his throat as a familiar pink tongue came out and licked his ear "Yeah Sammy – he's just fine" he looked down at the pup and all his earlier doubts vanished "Hey mutt" he said, gently swiping at the pups ears "Guess your gonna make a hunter after all"

Epilogue to follow!!


	5. Epilogue

**Pup – Epilogue**

Dean fiddled with his tie for what must have been the 100th time, making sure that the knot was tight enough, the actual tie was straight, his shirt collar wasn't sticking up. He hated wearing suits and the last time he had actually worn one was when he and Sam were pretending to be lawyers or doctors or something. He huffed a laugh, he had to be careful with this one though as it was his own, rather than a hire.

He looked down at the dog. He was behaving himself impeccably as usual, soft brown fur brushed until it shone. He wore his best red collar and was sitting to heel, just as Sam had taught him. Dean put his hand on the dog's head and patted it gently. In the five years since they had 'acquired' him, the dog had grown considerably and had finally gotten a name. They had discussed it endlessly after the hunt that had nearly killed Sam; the hunt where the pup had saved Sam's life and become Dean's best friend. Finally Dean had made the decision – Sam had brought the dog – but Dean should name him and pup became Ozzie, something Dean was proud of and Sam had learnt to live with.

Dean found his seat and got comfortable, Ozzie settling beneath his legs. As usual Dean found himself surrounded by women, all wanting to pat and play with Ozzie. Dean had met more girlfriends through the damn dog than he cared to admit, but he wasn't complaining. Chicks seemed to love men who loved dogs and Dean was seriously considering buying Ozzie a friend, you know, for company.

Two years ago they had finally killed the demon that had haunted their lives. Two years in which they had lived through torture, pain and separation. In the end though, their bond had remained strong and together they had risen above any challenges the bastard had set them and come out of the experience tired but whole.

Dean had waited for Sam to leave him, but for a while it seemed that Sam wasn't going anywhere. Eventually he admitted he would like to go back to education, but not unless Dean and Ozzie (the damn dog was always mentioned in the same breath as Dean now) came with him. Sam had laid down the law fairly firmly. He didn't want to go back to Stanford (too may memories) or to study law. He wanted to be a teacher, he explained, he wanted to work with kids and he wanted to stay with his brother. Finally they had found a quiet place in New England, near a wood that was excellent for dog walking and near a small town that had a bar, a pool room and a garage, everything in life that Dean needed or wanted.

Dean had continued to hunt, but only low key and safe gigs. He always took the dog and Sam was always waiting up for their return, no matter how late or how important his deadline. Dean often wondered if either of them would settle down, maybe find a nice girl, have a few kids. He watched Ozzie sniffing around the lady dogs and decided that the pup would probably have kids before either him or Sam.

Now it was his brother's graduation day and Dean was foolishly nervous. Sam had protested and made enough noise for the Dean to let Ozzie come to the ceremony, but Dean worried more about his behaviour than the dogs. He didn't want to let his brother down, it was important, to both of them, that Sam succeed in this. They had been through so much and now Sam deserved this, he deserved to do well; he deserved to achieve his goal. Dean looked around, a little sadly. There were so many families here today, proud parents, smart siblings. Dean knew that his dad would have, finally, approved of what Sam was doing and that both he and his mother would be proud of both their sons. He wished there were more people here for Sam on this special day and then he felt Ozzie's soft head on his knee and he found himself smiling. Ok, maybe their family was small, but it was loving, loyal and together and that was all that mattered to Sam.

He looked up as the students took to the stage and he spotted his brother immediately. Sam was head and shoulders above anyone else and he caught Dean's eye, grinning like a loon and waving to him and the dog. Ozzie caught sight of his master and tugged at the lead excitedly, his large tail thumping on the floor. Dean swallowed, determined not to have a 'mini chick flick moment'. Sam looked so smart in his cap and gown, even though his hair still wanted cutting and his shirt didn't quite do up on the sleeves. How he wished their dad could be here, to see Sam, to see what they had achieved. It had been five years and at one point, Dean hadn't thought he would even make it into his thirties, let alone see his baby brother graduate. He hadn't thought that they would live a normal life, hadn't thought he'd want to, but he'd been wrong and he could almost pinpoint the moment that their lives had changed.

Ozzie put his paw on Dean's knee and panted excitedly. The dog had changed their lives and for the better. It had made Dean realise that Sam had needed a little normality in his life that he needed something to care for (other than Dean), that he needed something to help him forget, to help him have a life outside of hunting. The dog had helped Dean get over his dad's death, helped him to face the real world, to relax a little when it mattered, to share things like Christmas and birthdays. Ozzie had seen them through good times and bad ones and now he would be with them as their life entered yet another new phase. Dean let go and let his tears fall freely. He didn't mind that everyone could see him, he didn't care that his brother would see him blubbing and probably tease him for weeks, even months, to come. He rested his hands on the dog's head and smiled "This is the biggest chick flick moment ever mutt" he whispered "And here's to many more"

End


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